


Open Wide Your Wounded Heart

by IdleLeaves



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Gen, Inspired by Fanart, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:28:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22617142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IdleLeaves/pseuds/IdleLeaves
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley experience a meteor shower for the first time. Crowley misunderstands.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 23
Kudos: 99
Collections: Good Omens Kink Meme





	Open Wide Your Wounded Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://glorfy-the-bright-haired-ellon.tumblr.com/post/190314587991/lmao-imagine-the-initial-shock-of-seeing-a-meteor) beautiful fanart.

Aziraphale has only been lying under the stars a short while before he hears the soft swish of footsteps through the tall grass.

"Aziraphale," Crawly says as he approaches. He doesn't wait for an invitation; instead, he just sits on the hillside next to Aziraphale with a smile that's anything but demonic. "Bit far from town, aren't you?" he says, and stretches out on his back with his hands linked behind his head.

"Not so far," says Aziraphale, and is fairly sure he smiles back. He's distracted, tonight; the stars are so very bright in the cloudless sky, and if he's heard correctly - if the night goes as planned - they won't be the only things shining tonight. And there couldn't be a better place to watch something entirely new to the world than a grassy hillside above a wide, shallow valley.

"So," Aziraphale says, because the silence between them is - for him, at least - just this side of comfortable. "I didn't know you were in the area."

"Just arrived," Crawly says. "Shouldn't be more than a few days before I'm off to the next. You?"

"Three evenings ago," says Aziraphale. "But I'll be here a... a while," he finishes. He's not really intending to be evasive - he's just never been particularly good with time. Tasks take as long as they take and that's that.

"A while," Crawly echoes. "Important assignment?"

Perhaps he shouldn't share so many details. Or certain details, at least. "Oh... no," Aziraphale lies. "Just a quick blessing."

Crawly raises his eyebrows. "Quick. Right," he says, and Aziraphale wonders if Crawly can sense his dishonesty.

Something bright streaks across the sky above them. " _Oh_ ," says Aziraphale, conversation immediately put to rest. "There." He points up, but too late. Another spark flares, though, moments later, and before long there are several falling every minute.

Crawly is sitting up, now, hands on his bent knees. There's an undecipherable expression on his face, and his eyes seem almost too bright, yellow-gold in the starlight.

"They're new," Aziraphale effuses, with that particular enthusiasm that only comes from experiencing something for the first time. "I believe the Almighty calls them _shooting stars_. They're quite lovely, really - I hadn't expected so many to fall, not for the first-"

Aziraphale stops mid-sentence. Crawly has abruptly ducked his head down, resting it against his knees, an arm up to shield his face. "Crawly?" Aziraphale says.

Crawly's only response is a wet sniffle, and Aziraphale realises with a start that he's crying.

His hand is halfway to Crawly's shoulder before he has time to think it over. Then, he freezes, hand in mid-air - he can't decide whether or not the comfort would be welcome. "Crawly," Aziraphale says again, "what's the matter?"

Crawly raises his head; his cheeks are wet with tears. "Are they all going to fall, then?" he asks. "And leave the sky dark?"

Aziraphale tilts his head in confusion. "The... stars?" he asks, glancing up as a particularly bright streak illuminates the sky. " _Oh_ ," he says with sudden understanding. "Oh no, Crawly. The stars aren't falling."

Crawly starts to reply, but Aziraphale continues before he gets the chance. "It's only a name - you can see why, can't you?" he says. "I'm quite certain the actual stars aren't going anywhere."

Crawly sniffs, and scrubs at his face with the palm of one hand. He leans back on his elbows, and looks everywhere but at Aziraphale. "I helped build them," he says, almost to himself. "Stars, constellations, nebulae, planets."

"You were an architecht," Aziraphale says, as gently as he can; Crawly just nods.

Neither of them speak for a long while. The stars - or whatever they truly are - continue to fall, fewer and fewer until they seem to have stopped altogether. A light wind rustles the grass on the hillside, and clouds start to drift in from the west. A thin sliver of moon finally appears on the horizon.

"I thought," Crawly says, then pauses with a shake of his head. "I thought she was taking what I'd built and-" He stops, again, and swallows hard.

"Destroying it?" says Aziraphale.

"Casting it out," says Crawly, and Aziraphale pretends not to notice when his voice hitches on the last word.

_Oh, Crawly_. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but Aziraphale holds him back. He doesn't, though, stop himself - this time - from reaching out and laying his hand on Crawly's shoulder with a light squeeze. 

It takes several minutes and even more deep, measured breaths, but Crawly eventually turns his head toward Aziraphale and manages something close to a smile.

"Should be getting back, I suppose," Aziraphale finds himself saying.

Crawly nods. "Might stay out here a bit longer, myself," he says, and adjusts his shoulders so Aziraphale's hand falls away. "Good night, Aziraphale."

Aziraphale stands, brushing grass from his white clothing. "Good night, Crawly," he says, and starts back down the hillside in the direction of town.


End file.
